


Let the Mirth and Frivolity Commence

by summers_honey_breath



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Casual Sex, Dialogue Heavy, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Smut, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summers_honey_breath/pseuds/summers_honey_breath
Summary: On a rare free night, Kassandra lets loose and embarks on a night of drunken revelry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought the internet could use some Kassandra/Alkibiades fic (smut in the second chapter). I might do some revisions later, maybe expand this into an actual story. Let me know what you think!

Clad in her strophion and perizoma, Kassandra did not feel exposed in the least. Alkibiades had long since explored every inch of her body, relished and explored each dip and crevice. In underclothes, she really was quite overdressed.  
Alas, the matter at hand was more trivial than arousing, and one unfamiliar to the Eagle-Bearer. What in all of Hellas was she going to to wear to another symposium?  
A servant had set out a soft pink chiton, embroidered with a leaf-and-vine pattern. Two more arrived in quick succession, bearing options of their own: one of cypress green, the other of lichen, both just as elaborate as the first.  
“Do you not prefer me in armor?” asked Kassandra. “It’s much more formfitting.”  
Alkibiades pulled her close and kissed her, blonde hair like silk on her cheeks. “But much more difficult to remove,” he said. “Besides, nothing a belt clasping that _divine_ waist can’t remedy. You are Aphrodite given flesh, misthios. Artemis with your bow and swift feet, Athena with your strength and mind…”  
“And who are you? Apollo and Ares, all in one? Perhaps Dionysos? Hm, yes, that one seems the most accurate.”  
“And why not?”  
“At this point, we’re just naming the entire pantheon.”  
“Who else could we be compared to but the gods?”  
Kassandra laughed. She had a weakness for beautiful people—men and women alike—even if this one was an eccentric, self-absorbed lecher. Truly he was the most ridiculous person she’d ever met. Not someone any sane woman would love, but certainly the most fun.  
“I’m not sure it’s wise to get me all dressed up like this, Alkibiades,” she said, eyeing the display with a frown. “You seem to have a habit of feeding my clothes to the goats. Oh, and about that—no more goat-voyeurs in the bedroom. Not when you’re with me.”  
For once, Alkibiades said nothing. He merely jerked his chin, and a servant came forward with earrings, a necklace, and a pair of golden armbands, wrought into hissing serpents.  
Before she could protest, Kassandra found herself adorned and bejeweled. “I can dress myself, you know,” she said, reluctantly stepping into the cypress green chiton. A flower-shaped pin fastened it at the shoulder, followed by a diadem upon her brow. She plucked at the belt now fastened around her waist. “I preferred the one from the other night.”  
“I prefer you in nothing at all, but this will have to do. Chrysanthe?” A slim, raven-haired woman dipped her fingers in a jar, extracting a reddish pulp.  
“Oh, I’ll have none of that!” said Kassandra, as she dodged the woman’s advances. “I draw the line at cosmetics. Where is Phoibe? Phoibe, I need you!”  
Alkibiades cradled her face in his hands. “Hush. You don’t need them, anyway. And I suppose if there’s any fighting—or other rigorous activities to partake of—we don’t want anything getting in your eyes…or my mouth.”  
“You’re incorrigible.”  
“Irresistible, you mean.”

 

Kassandra was having a much better time than expected. While she had little taste for philosophy—and little patience for Sokrates’s incessant questions—she was as good a drinker as she was a fighter. Downing her bowl of wine, she lobbed it to the ground, breaking it, and pointed a heavily-ringed finger at her adversary. “Looks like I win, Dareios,” she said.  
The statesman, rosy and plump as a pig, grinned as he tossed her a pouch of drachmae. “Hard won and deserved. I never thought anyone but Alkibiades could outdrink me.”  
“Thank you, thank you. Please, there’s no need for applause! He was a worthy opponent. Well, who else wants to have a go? Euripides? Aristophanes? We had such fun last time! Shall we drink and compose another song? I can think of no better way to spend the night.”  
The two men stepped forward, grins on their faces. Sokrates crept up behind them and began to muse, “Ah, but is it not—”  
“Not now, Sokrates!” said Kassandra, clapping him on the shoulder. “The time for philosophizing is over! Now, we drink!”  
Thus she clinked bowls with the playwrights and drank until the world began to spin.

Sometime later, Kassandra was in the kitchen, nibbling on figs and cheese. She leaned against the wall, legs outstretched, chiton bunched around her thighs. Her soft brown hair had unraveled from its braid, and the diadem lay askew, but she couldn’t be bothered. Alkibiades sat beside her, tearing into loaf of bread. “Enjoying the party, misthios?” he asked.  
Kassandra put a fig to her lips and bit down. “Trying to entice me into another orgy?”  
“I’ve already had my…collective fun. As did you, I noticed, before you started drinking everyone under the table. I’m all yours now.”  
“What luck! I don’t feel like sharing you tonight.”  
“Then what are we waiting for?”  
The Eagle-Bearer cast him a sidelong glance. “No goats, Alkibiades, or I swear to the gods you’ll never get to touch me again. Come,” she said and rose to retrieve a jug of oil. “This should be more than enough for two.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna end this here, keep it short and sweet. If I do any more writing about these two it'll be in separate works. Thanks for the comments and kudos!
> 
> Side note: one of Alkibiades's lines quotes the title of a Regnault painting. Promise I'm not being unnecessarily wordy!

How fortunate, that his rooms were but a stone’s throw away from the kitchen. The pair wove through the peristyle, between gaggles of people, snickering like thieves and stealing kisses when columns obscured them from view. Alkibiades seemed liable to take her up against one, but as his hand brushed the back of her knee she jerked. Oil sloshed over the lip of the jug and onto the floor.  
A cough pulled them back into the room. “Sokrates, you sneaky bastard!” said Kassandra, still wheezing with laughter, marble cold and unyielding at her back. She clutched the jug to her breast. “I’m starting to think you really are following me everywhere.”  
The philosopher lay a hand on his impressive paunch. “And it seems my dear student is rubbing off on you, Kassandra.”  
“In more ways than one, dear tutor,” said Alkibiades.  
Kassandra cocked her head. The jug slipped in her arms, and another yellow-green puddle splattered at her feet. “No words of wisdom? Or am I too far gone in life to learn morals?”  
“You? One hopes not. Alkibiades? Perhaps. Who is to say? Either way, I’ll save my words of wisdom--though in truth I know nothing--for when you’re sober, misthios. Chaire.” Chuckling to himself, Sokrates plunged back into the human river, blue chiton fluttering in his wake.  
“Do try not to drag me from the embrace of sensual pleasure this time!” called Alkibiades.  
“If he does, it’s because you often give him reason,” said Kassandra. “I’m surprised you even bothered to dress before coming back out. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy the sight of you, ah, unencumbered.”  
“And here I thought you enjoyed the sight of me invariably.”  
Kassandra simply yanked him to his rooms, quite undeterred by their now considerable lack of provisions, for a pair of servants came to replenish them, and bear the burdens themselves. Once locked behind heavy wooden doors, clothes were shed and words abandoned. They tripped and teetered across the marble tiles and spilled into bed, Kassandra landing on top, their heads knocking. Unfazed, they shared a laugh.  
Each touch, fueled by lust and drink, was clumsy yet unfaltering; they took their time, content to revel in the supple feel of a limb, the scrape of nails on flesh. When at last Alkibiades stole a hand between them, he found the Eagle-Bearer wet and wanting, whereupon she grasped him and whispered something brief but filthy enough to make him groan.  
Kassandra so adored his reactions, the way his cheeks and neck went pink and gleamed with sweat. When at last he thrust up and into her, she snatched up his hands and pinned them above his head, admiring the lean, muscle-bound arms. This was by far the tamest they’d ever been, one in only a handful of times they’d shared a bed—or a room—alone, far more tender than erotic. No music, no raucous laughter, or loose animals that most certainly did not belong. The simplicity was new, but not unwelcome.  
In time Kassandra released him, allowed him to prod and open further the place of their joining, his cock driving, pulsing deep within her. Seizing his gaze, she rose and fell above him, and did not cease until she reached her climax. Thereby she flopped onto his chest and felt a surge of warmth as her muscles still fluttered around him. Only when he extracted himself did she feel another surge, one that rose to her throat.  
With a gag, she hurled herself out of bed, grabbed an amphora, and voided her stomach into its depths.


End file.
